


From Hacker To Matchmaker

by 5her1ock



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hackers, Canon Divergence - A Study in Pink, Cute, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, First Dates, Hacking, Happy Ending, John is Not Amused, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, Protective Big Brother Mycroft, Protective Mycroft, References to Moriarty, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24819115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5her1ock/pseuds/5her1ock
Summary: The rumblings of Jim Moriarty have led one particular freelance hacker to take notice of Sherlock Holmes. His curiosity accidentally leads him to cause a domino effect, and brings together two people who otherwise may not have met.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	From Hacker To Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I know this one kind of sounds a little similar to another one I wrote, but I had fun writing it so I hope you all have fun reading it. I know there's a little bit of flawed logic in it but that tends to happen when writing about something one is not well versed in. Hopefully it's still entertaining!

His screen name was Stealth4527. He was bored. He had just finished some freelance work that was sanctioned by some guy from MI-6 who referred to himself as “Antarctica.” The guy was not pleasant to deal with but Stealth4527 knew better than to cross him, he was scary as hell. 

He began searching various networks to find a new gig, and began noticing the initials “JM” appearing again and again, especially as he dug deeper into more and more questionable outlets. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to have it out for some guy named Sherlock Holmes. Stealth4527 had never seen this name before now, but figured it must be someone rather dangerous, possibly someone with the potential to bring an entire nation to its knees. 

Nope. He was just an ordinary man. Stealth4527 was very dissatisfied. This Sherlock guy had almost no internet presence. He had a website that listed 243 different types of tobacco ash, and identified tensile strengths of sheep’s wool. He had no job. He had solved a number of cases for Scotland Yard but was not paid a single cent. And yet he rented property in central London. Maybe this guy had a secret, he had to have had. 

Naturally, the next step was to hack the guy’s computer. He did so.

Nothing interesting.

The curiosity was eating him alive. This “JM” person, who clearly had a lot of influence over the underground world, was making this Sherlock seem like some incredible mastermind. He absolutely had to establish contact. 

Impersonate someone local, that was the proper route. He quickly browsed social media for someone with an exceedingly low profile, yet someone who would have a believable reason to be making contact. Someone Sherlock had never met before.

Perfect. John Hamish Watson. Recently returned from war, no close friends or family members.

Now to text the number listed on Sherlock’s website. Some mastermind.

“Hello Mr. Holmes,” the message began, “I stumbled upon your website ‘The Science of Deduction’ and as it happens I have just returned home from military service and cannot get in contact with my sister. I was hoping to engage your skillset to help me track her down. -John H. Watson”

…

Ding. It was a message. Sherlock did not want to grab his phone from the table, he was thinking.

“Mrs. Hudson!” He called. No response.

Begrudgingly he wandered to his phone and checked the message. It was from some guy named John Watson. He needed help tracking down his sister.

“Boring,” he responded to the text message. He then picked up a gun, tossed his phone towards the opposite wall and shot it before it began to descend. It shattered into a bunch of tiny pieces, and they dropped to the floor. 

…

Stealth4527 was not expecting that response. He texted once again but received only an error message in reply. Odd. 

So he went for the computer. He had previously looked through all the files, but there was nothing suspicious, nothing even remotely out of the ordinary.

He didn’t dare contact this mysterious JM, he knew better than to get involved with that kind of criminal. He did have some standards. 

So he opened a secure chat channel, and once again tried to contact Sherlock Holmes as John Watson, a dangerous move, but he didn’t want to put in the energy to find another alias. He had already put far more work into this than he had initially intended to. He couldn’t help being curious.

…

Another mysterious message from a guy named John Watson. Mycroft popped into Sherlock’s mind palace, clouding his thoughts.

“What do we say about coincidences little brother?”

“Shut up Mycroft,” Sherlock said out loud to nobody. He had to admit that this was a bit suspicious, especially since the text he had received earlier was about a missing relative of some sort. He had already deleted the boring details. But how could someone with this amount of technical knowledge have such difficulty tracking someone down. It was obvious they had dug into his computer, he had no previous contact with this person and now there was a secure message channel, why not just try to connect through a normal means of communication?

As much as he hated to do it, he called his brother.

“Hello blood… no I did not call Mummy back… because she has nothing important to talk about… yes I do have a reason for calling, ever heard of someone named John Watson?”

…

Why was somebody knocking on the door? John yawned and lazily walked to his entryway, although it was less of an entryway than the part of his tiny apartment that was supposed to be a living room. 

“Are you John Watson?” A scary looking man in some sort of uniform asked.

“Uhh... yeah, can I help you?”

“MI-5. Please come with me, we need to ask you some questions.”

“Am I, am I under arrest?” He asked indignantly, since they had not told him such, nor did they give him a reason for doing so. 

“No, but you are a person of interest in an ongoing investigation, your cooperation is appreciated and strongly suggested.”

John did as he was asked, but complained through the entire journey.

…

“He’s clean, stubborn as hell, but clean.”

“Interesting, who was contacting me then?”

“I don’t know little brother, but you are safe, for now, and that’s what matters, I have bigger things to concern myself with than measly puzzles.”

“Goodbye, brother mine,” Sherlock sarcastically over-enunciated and hung up, rolling his eyes.

He sat contemplating for either minutes or hours, he lost track. Then there was a knock at his door. Nobody he knew, the visitor had a limp, and his knock was firm and concise. Disciplined then. And male going by the sound of his heavy breathing.

“Come in,” Sherlock shouted without opening his eyes, his hands resting in steeple position before him.

The man walked in, planting his feet firmly on the ground. Flustered.

“Who are you?” The stranger said, “You know what it doesn’t matter, but if in the future, if you want to ask me questions, call me, or better yet, leave me alone. I have far better things to do than spend hours being interrogated by some scary government goons about some man I’ve never even met!”

“No you don’t.” Sherlock opened his eyes for the first time, but still did not move. 

“Excuse me?”

“Take a seat John Watson, I was just about to brew some tea. Would you like some?”

“I, no, I would not. And who are you to presume I don’t have better things to do, better question, who the hell even are you?”

“Sherlock Holmes, but you already know that. Now you John Watson, are an army doctor recently returned from military service in… I’d guess Afghanistan. You are currently unemployed and living in a tiny apartment somewhere just outside of London. You have a sister who you refuse to go to for help, and you spend your days browsing the internet and ordering in. That’s how I know you have nothing better to do. That and the fact that you took the time to come all the way down here and confront me in person, rather than just calling or texting. As far as the inconvenience yesterday, I am sorry about that. I seem to have a possible stalker who assumed your identity to try to get close to me. Now will that be all or are you staying for tea?” Sherlock stood up and made his way towards the kitchen to start the kettle. 

“And how exactly do you know all this?”

“Not important, some of it was handed to me by my stalker, but that information was confirmed by your appearance, and the rest I read off of you in the same manner.”

“Oh okay, I suppose this is just normal for you?”

“It’s a reflex, I can’t turn it off, comes in handy though. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose I can stay for tea,” John said, slightly dazed, and still standing.

“Please, have a seat, you must want to rest that psychosomatic limp of yours.”

“Yes, I… what do you mean psychosomatic?”

“I offered you a seat when you came in, you didn’t take it, and your weight keeps shifting to your bad leg, can’t be that bad if it can support your full body weight without any noticeable indication of pain, likely just psychosomatic.”

“Huh.”

“I can also tell you that you’re not ordinarily trusting but you are a good judge of character, or a bad judge of character depending on whether I poison your tea.”

“What now,” John looked concerned.

“I’m only joking, but you did only just meet me, and now you’re accepting a beverage from a complete stranger without having seen me pour it out,” he stated, handing john a cup of tea, and taking a seat in his favorite chair. 

They made small talk for a few moments, which normally Sherlock hated but something about this man put him at ease, and he didn’t mind.

“You know I’m famished,” he stated after a short while, “and all I have in the fridge are remnants of corpses, I do know this great place on Northumberland street though, would you like to join me?”

“I would be happy to,” John agreed, “although I am hoping you’re joking about the corpses.”

“Science experiment, don’t worry I didn’t kill them, I got them legitimately from Molly Hooper at the morgue, you can take it up with her yourself if you’re concerned.”

John just shrugged and the two walked to the restaurant, talking all the way.

Once there, John let Sherlock order him food, since he seemed to know the place well. In fact he knew the owner, who came over and took their order. 

“I’ll grab you two a candle for the table, make it more romantic,” he said with a wink as he walked away with their menus.

John was about to protest, but the guy was already out of earshot. 

“I’m sorry about him…” Sherlock said, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, I feel like I should ask though, is this… is this a date?”

“No, no I felt bad about yesterday so this is me trying to make up for it…” he said way too quickly and then trailed off.

“Okay…” John paused for an uncomfortable amount of time before taking a breath and continuing, “did… did you want it to be?”

“Want what to be what?” Sherlock said, obviously confused.

“A date. Did you want this here, now, to be a date?”

“I… I um…” Sherlock turned beet red, and John just giggled at his discomfort.

“I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, I just assumed since the shop owner and all… I’m sorry if I got it wrong…”

“No, no I would. I mean, yes this can be a date if you’d like it to be.”

John beamed, “Okay! It’s a date then.”

After that the awkwardness faded. The candle arrived. And then then the food. The two men chatted untill closing time.

…

Neither John nor Sherlock were ever bothered by Stealth 4527 again, as he gave up on trying to solve the mystery.

Although the same could not be said about this mysterious JM person. 

Whatever awaited, though, the two men would face it together. Hand in hand.


End file.
